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Leg Post 95
Leg Post 95 begins in the year 1246BC and recounts the warfare between the Hittite Empire and the Egyptian Kingdom, which controlled the Levant to the south of the Hittite Empire. Having lost a war to the Assyrian Empire and lost its own colony of Troy, the Hittite Empire wanted to forge a lasting alliance with Egypt. Thus they sent their princess to wed the pharaoh of Egypt. She travelled through the Levant, carried on a palanquin by European slaves. They stop in the town of Jebus, also called Jerusalem, and she rests in her silk laden tent. She is disturbed by the sudden presence of a ghostly woman who appeared as a flaming, white light with blue-flame eyes. She is Shahar, but calls herself The Morning Star. An old deity and ruler of a place called Hell, she relinquished her dark realm over to the God of Writers, and her brother, The Evening Star, gave his realm above over to the same god. Now, she reveals, there are two new powers in these seats and they collude to form their new religion, which would later become Judaism. She is angry at the trespass of the Hattusans and the Egyptians, relying only on the small local villagers for worship and demands that the princess, and her kind, stop disturbing her retirement. When the princess grows disrespectful and wishes The Morning Star to leave, the deity reveals she can see the sins within the woman and that she is destined for a miserable future thanks to the bonds of fate. She slams her hand into the body of the princess to grab her soul and manipulates it to show the princess her own punishable behaviour. When the deity vanishes, the princess puts the experience down to eating bananas before bed. She continues on into Africa and approaches the Nile Delta, able to shop aplenty thanks to the trade routes of the Mediterranean Sea. When they finally reach the new capital of Egypt, Pi-Ramesses - named after its creator, and her soon-to-be-husband, Ramesess II - a slave stumbles before her and she is about to assault him but she stops and reflects, obviously influenced by the supposed dream of The Morning Star. She relents and orders him to move before she resumes the last leg of the journey. When she arrived and finally met her new husband, who was called Ozymandias by the Greeks, he refused to attempt her difficult name, which Maathorneferure, and renamed her Harem Girl #34. She is utterly dejected and the king admits he only married her for her dowry, the alliance and because he wants a girl from every land, like a collection. He shoos her away and she, miserably, goes to join the wide variety of wives. Post The Morning Star In 1246BC, the grand princess of Hattusa paraded before the excited Egyptian crowds. The Egyptian kingdom rose far from its home on the African continent and along the Levant and up to the borders of the Hittite Empire. Wars were waged, skirmishes were fought and blood was shed. While the Egyptian Empire was far larger than Hattusa’s lands, it was also stretched thinner in its extremities. The battles ended with a truce, yet during that time, new wars emerged for both parties. The Hittite Empire had to contend for its land in Anatolia with the old Assyrian Empire to the east and, in humiliating fashion, its own splinter nation of Troy on the western peninsula. Unable to mount an attack against Troy and a disastrous defeat against Assyria, Hattusa was struggling to maintain itself. Pirates constantly raided their shores in the Black Sea and the Amazons slaughtered villages worth of menfolk. Instead, they turned to their old enemy – Egypt. The princess was marched through Levant, where she encountered the simple tribes that lived there. They had been easily subsumed by the beast that was Egypt. The town of Jebus, known as Jerusalem by the Arabians, was a small affair with little more than a bunch of sheep for company. North of Jebus had been Lebanon, where writing had first been invented and spread to the world many years ago. But the princess’ travels took her ever south, towards the heart of that ancient kingdom. Her palanquin was being carried by a bunch of strong, manly slaves that had been captured from the lands of the north-west; Europe, she thought they were called. These barbarians made excellent mules. The simple folk gawked at her splendour and she revelled in it. As amazed with her glamour as the Hittites were, the people of the Levant villages were stupefied. The Egyptian military machines may have swept through the lands, but its king had not. She waved to the peasants and poked their foreheads as way of blessing them, not that she cared but it made her feel important. She didn’t know if her fingers could really bestow any god’s mercy, or not, but they seemed to believe it would, so she indulged them. As the night drew on, in the town of Jebus, the entourage came to a halt to rest. Her tent was crafted hastily, but carefully, and the silk, freshly cleaned, was laid down for bedding. Food was taken from the townsfolk, sometimes bought sometimes requisitioned, and the caravan settled in for the night. Hittite guardsmen patrolled the area while the animals, what few there were, got fed. The princess’ prized cat was tied up to the central mast of the test, so he couldn’t run off into the wild and get himself lost. She lounged on the silk bedding, feeling tired from the long day’s… lounging. Watching people carry her around was an exhausting affair. But she heard a faint sound, a light tinkling, coming from outside the tent. The princess sat up and strained her ears. She watched the door to the tent with an odd sense of fear. She was too afraid to call out, as though the pretty-sounding creature might take offence. Woman: “Little mortal.” The princess leapt from her silk sheets and spin about to face the female voice but she was struck with blinding light. The princess shielded her eyes, but it was as though the light had burnt onto her retinas. Princess: “Please stop!” The light dampened until the girl could see again. Before her was a short woman who was glowing like a fiery lightbulb. Her eyes were burning with blue flame while the rest of her was burning white. The white and blue flames lapped at the air and created a radiant warmth throughout the tent. Woman: “More of your kind disturb my land.” Princess: “My kind? Who are you?” Morning Star: “I am Shahar, or Morning Star in your language. I am retired in these lands and you disturb my rest.” Princess: “I didn’t do anything.” Morning Star: “Your presence disturbs me.” The princess, now engaged in dialogue with this creature, grew more confident and certain of herself. She knew her place as princess of the grand Hittite Empire – who was this sparkly, little imp supposed to be? Princess: “Well, your presence disturbs me.” There was a sudden flicker in the blue eyes from blue to red, but it lasted just a fraction of time. It was enough to worry the princess anew. Morning Star: “The handful of humans here keep me satiated. The many people, like you, are too many. You annoy me.” Her voice seemed not to come from her lips but from the air around the mortal princess and the accent was so thick, she felt the flame-creature was using the language for the first time. Princess: “I’ll be gone by morning.” Morning Star: “And then?” The girl blinked and then shrugged; Princess: “I’ll keep going to Pi-Ramesses.” The woman’s eyes again flickered to red for a moment. Morning Star: “What will happen to me?” Princess: “What? How should I know?”’ Morning Star: “Stop coming here.” Princess: “I won’t come here again!” There was a pause. Princess: “Do you mean everyone?” Morning Star: “All of you.” Princess: “I am not everyone. I can’t make everyone stop coming here. Besides, it’s not my business. What do I care?” She flicked her hair from her shoulder, as though it were the full stop at the end of her argument. Morning Star: “I was here long before you. And them. And the village. My people are gone, but I remain. My brother, the Evening Star, is gone too. But I remain.” The princess rolled her eyes, bored of this glittering pest. Princess: “Go and complain to the gods then. See if they care.” Morning Star: “Your gods sent you here?” Princess: “No? I mean, maybe? Aren’t we all working by the gods designs?” Morning Star: “Then I should destroy your gods…” The princess laughed, but the serious face on the woman brought her to a stop. Princess: “You’re not joking?” The Morning Star just stared at her. Princess: “I think it’s time for you to go.” Morning Star: “You are in my home. I will not go.” Princess: “What are you? Some kind of disgruntled spirit? Did you lover leave you jilted and now you’re haunting me, a bride-to-be? Is that it?” Morning Star: “I am the morning star.” Princess: “Yes, you already said that. Old news, hag. Old news.” Morning Star: “Mine is the tomb to which the wicked of humanity once attended. In droves they fell into my embrace. There I held them. Punished them.” Princess: “Are you talking about an afterlife now? You’re not very precise, are you? You need to stick to a narrative. Stop meandering and people will listen to you more.” Morning Star: “The gates of Hell have long been shut. My people fell into the ocean.” Princess: “You can reminisce elsewhere, you know?” Morning Star: “You are in my home.” Princess: “Should I pay you for the space? It’s a dung heap town anyway, it’s not worth much. I’ve seen cows crap out more important—” The princess catches herself. That was not very dignified language. Morning Star: “I retired and gave Hell over, as my brother gave his over, to another deity of humanity, the God of Writers. Now a warden sits down there. Biding his time. Colluding with the one up there. Plotting to make their great religion. I am forgotten. I am retired. And you, and your kind, disturb me.” Princess: “What about if I put a big sign up? It will say, ‘Here rests an annoying ghost-girl, for you own safety, don’t stay here’. Would that serve?” Morning Star: “I see the evil within you.” Princess: “Yes, my mother said the same thing when I stole my brother’s cookies.” Morning Star: “Your sloth. Your pride. Your lust. Your gluttony. Your greed. Your envy. Your wroth.” The princess yawned. Morning Star: “Perhaps the gates will be opened soon.” Princess: “Yes, yes. This Hell you’re blabbing about. You said there’s nobody there right now? Then maybe it would be more peaceful than here.” The Morning Star’s eyes burst, again, into red flame and she thrust out her hand and burst into the princess’ chest. The girl squealed. She felt her insides writhing and recoiling from the touch of this creature and, for the first time, she saw through the guise of the pretty, flaming girl and sensed the terribleness of her being. This creature, this god, the daemon was a being of immense evil. She wasn’t evil in personality, she was created from it. The very embodiment of evil. If there were layers to evil, she was the bedrock – the zeroth foundation upon which the rest stood. The princess realised it wasn’t her innards that were in distress, it was her soul. The Morning Star, the original Devil, held her soul like it was a physical manifestation to be toyed with. Then the princess saw herself – she saw her own soul. It was a rotten, decayed and corrupt thing. It was blackened, as though burnt in a great fire, that squirmed and gasped. It was hideous to behold. The Morning Star released her and she scurried to the corner of the tent with one of her sheets, as though that would screen her from this foul essence. Morning Star: “I am retired here. You are in my home. You disturb me.” The princess now chose to consume the metaphorical humble pie; Princess: “P-please forgive us. We’re just passing through. We didn’t know you were here. The animals need to rest… the barbarians too! The people! I mean the people need to rest!” Morning Star: “The rest of your life will be miserable.” Princess: “No! Please don’t curse me!” Morning Star: “I did not. I see it. The thread of your fate. You are strongly bound to it. The gods of fate, whether the Cosmic Deities or your own pantheon, have seen fit to make you an unhappy toy in the great game of thrones.” Princess: “Dur-dur-dur-durr—”Game of Thrones (Main Theme) Extended HD video, YouTube. The Morning Star cocked her head. Princess: “Sorry, a song just popped into my head there.” Morning Star: “Should another great people intrude on my solitude, they shall rue the day.” Princess: “I’m sure my husband-to-be will not send anyone here again. It’s a backwater, nowhere anyway—” She bit her lip. Princess: “I mean, it’s a pretty, quiet, countryside where the grass is green, and the girls are pretty?”Guns N' Roses - Paradise City video, YouTube. The princess thought about that. Princess: “I seem to be getting songs in my head all of a sudden – probably my brain trying to distract me from the horror in front of me…” Morning Star: “No more people.” The pretty evil being dwindled, as did the light in the tent, until darkness reigned. Usually afraid of the dark, she suddenly felt much safer in it. The searing light of the Morning Star would no longer breach the quiet darkness of the night. The princess poked her head from the tent to find her guards stood there. They snapped to attention when she appeared but didn’t seem to be aware there had been any distress within the tent. As she crawled back to her soft, silk sheets she began to wonder if it had been a dream. She had eaten a banana and her mother always said not to eat them before bed. She often ate them before bed, just because her mother told her not to. Princess: “Oh God of Bananas. I vow never to eat your fruit before bed again.” She settled into an uneasy sleep. The trip to Pi-Ramesses was long and arduous, for the palanquin bearers. For the princess and her maids, it was an annoying, boring journey across bland, uninspiring lands of the Levant. Not until they entered Egypt itself did things get more interesting. The cities along the coast of the eastern Mediterranean Sea, known as the Levantine Sea, were bustling with trade of exotic and exciting goods. Far, far more than she ever dreamed of in Hattusa. Immediate access to the Mediterranean made Egypt a commercial centre of the known world. Goods from all of the Mediterranean powers – Carthage, Greece, Troy, Hibernia – were brought into Egypt. Goods from land routes to Arabia, Hattusa and Babylon also arrived daily. Even lands of Asia – China and India – were selling products in Egypt, much to the delight of the princess and her company. They quickly went on a spending spree with each coastal city they visited until they finally reached the Nile Delta and began the last stretch to the new capital of Egypt – Pi-Ramesses. Named after himself, she understood, the new capital was built by Ramesses II. Not that she minded. A confident man was a good thing, she thought. People from the Levant, and surely from the town of Jebus even, had been conscripted into service and enslaved to carry out the work on Pi-Ramesses. She watched them, thin and sweating, as they hauled massive boulders down roads. She wished she could have arrived later, when it was all finished and there weren’t so many grubby slaves around. She was carted down the road by her barbarians, while she picked at her grapes that lay on a platter at her side. She was imagining her new husband in all his grandeur with great fancy. Her palanquin suddenly came to a halt, jerking her, as a slave fell before them. She snarled and grabbed a grape in her hand, ready to pelt it at the idiot’s head. She paused. For a moment, the withered body of the slave reminded her of her own withered soul, as she had seen in her dream with the Morning Star. She hesitated. She put the grape down. Princess: “Move.” The slave bowed and scraped himself out of her way and on they went. Finally, she was deposited at the steps of a grand building, which she delighted in. It was elegant and cool, keeping the hot Egyptian air from her pretty hair. She sauntered inside to meet her husband, Ramesses II. He was commonly known as Ozymandias throughout Anatolia and he claimed to have been reincarnated from a previous pharaoh. She didn’t believe that, but many pharaohs claimed to be reincarnated ancestors and most of them considered themselves gods. She smirked to herself. She knew she could make this god keenly aware of his mortal manhood once he was in her bed. She stepped forth. Princess: “I am Princess Maathorneferure of Hattusa, oh Pharaoh of Egypt!” The Egyptian king glanced up from his schematics on the table with a wince. Ozymandias: “Your name is what!?” She groaned. That wasn’t the start she had hoped for. Princess: “Maathorneferure.” His tongue recoiled at the attempt. Ozymandias: “Okay, okay. I am definitely not going to bother trying to learn that.” Princess: “B-But it’s my name!” Ozymandias: “You’re Harem Girl #34 now.” Princess: “''Harem''!?” Ozymandias: “Where’s your dowry? Your idiot brother had better have given me the full amount. I need that gold to get more stone!” The princess felt her world crumbling before her, even as the building around her was being erected. Princess: “It’s… outside…” Ozymandias: “Great. Good. Okay, off with you, Harm Girl… what number did I give you again?” The princess’ lip wobbled. Princess: “Thirty-four…” Ozymandias: “Right. Harem Girl #34, you can go and lounge about with the rest of them. If it turns out I gave you the same number as another one, just choose another number. I’ll never see you again anyway. More important things to be done than bedding airheaded princesses!” Princess: “But—why did you marry me!?” Ozymandias: “Dowry, alliance. Plus, I don’t have a Hattusan wife yet. Wives are like PokémonPokémon article, Wikipedia., gotta catch ‘em all!” Princess: “I want to be, the very best. Like no one ever was…”Pokémon Theme Song (Music Video) video, YouTube. Ozymandias: “What?” As peppy as the song in her head was, she was utterly dejected. Princess: “Just… a song…” Ozymandias: “That’s nice, isn’t it? That’s about all women are good at. Singing, dancing, playing a lyre or something?” She tarried. Ozymandias: “Off with you then. Go, go. Shoo.” He wafted his hand at her and went back to his schematics. She turned. A few other women were nearby, beckoning her. Other wives. She saw a white girl, possibly one of the barbarian people from Europe. There was a black skinned woman from southern Africa, a golden-skinned woman from China. There really did seem to be a wide variety. She, unhappily, went to join the collection. Notes Britt's Commentary "This is inspired by true history where the HattusanHittites article, Wikipedia. princess, MaathorneferureMaathorneferure article, Wikipedia. , did marry Ramesess IIRamesess II article, Wikipedia., which he likely did for the money. Unfortunately, Al Ciao the Writer had already used Ozymandias in Leg Post 58, but placed him as king over a thousand years earlier than true history. To get around this, I stated here that he has been reincarnated. The nature of that wouldn't come to pass until later, but it seemed the best explanation at the time. The princess being dubbed "Harem Girl 37" was a slight dig at Al Ciao the Writer for once creating the Character "Harem Girl 87" and creating harems for his Characters, such as Highemperor, without considering how sexist it all is. The Morning Star Character is based on ShaharShahar (god) article, Wikipedia., the original deity worshipped in the JerusalemJerusalem article, Wikipedia. area that was interpreted as "The Morning Star", a name given to the DevilDevil article, Wikipedia.. Since there had already been a Mr One, which was Helebon, I figured that The Morning Star could, essentially, be Mr Zero and she gave Hell over to the WriterGod for use when she retired. When she speaks of the new religion and the wardens, she is referring to Satan, Mr Two, and Yahweh who were wrote up in Leg Post 88. This entire post was really a lead-in to the conflict between Egypt and Ethiopia, which would lead to Ethiopia joining Troy thanks to the Egyptian-Hattusan alliance. However, it also, unexpectedly, led into the creation of Moses into the Narrative thanks to Al Ciao the Writer." ~ Britt the Writer References External References